


hell or high water

by galpalaven



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Origins, Dragon Age: Origins - Awakening
Genre: Asexual Relationship, Established Relationship, F/M, Murder Mystery, Post-Awakening, Post-Dragon Age: Origins - Awakening
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-27
Updated: 2020-12-27
Packaged: 2021-03-11 04:40:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,129
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28369266
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/galpalaven/pseuds/galpalaven
Summary: The Blight left its mark on Ferelden in more ways than one. Though the darkspawn have retreated back to the Deep Roads, the taint lingers on the countryside, lurking in the shadows, ready to infect anyone who draws near enough.When a series of murders shakes the arling of Amaranthine, it's up to the newly established Arlessa and her crew of Grey Wardens to put a stop to it - and with the help of a certain ex-Antivan Crow, they hope to make quick work of the whole mess.
Relationships: Zevran Arainai/Female Cousland, Zevran Arainai/Female Warden
Comments: 4
Kudos: 5





	hell or high water

The shores off the coast of Amaranthine are quite often blanketed by a thick ceiling of swirling, grey clouds. While the Storm Coast technically lies much farther to the north, the overflow of rain and wind tends to batter the walls of the city more often than not. 

Today is no different. Wind howls around the battlements and over the rooftops as a spring squall roars over the city, drenching their evergreen arling in even more life-giving rain.

Unfortunately, however, the rain is the only thing giving life today.

The stones beneath their feet are soaked with red, draining down the gutter and washing down towards the lower end of the city. It seems like so much blood, more than there’d been at the last scene, but maybe that’s just the effect of the rain. The guard has done a rather surprisingly good job of blocking off the crime scene, keeping the murmuring crowd of curious onlookers far enough back that Kira can’t hear any of the speculation over the roar of the rain. Even the crest of the Warden-Commander couldn’t keep the curious from pushing in too close without the guard’s presence. The guard had even managed to put up a tarp over the scene as best they could, to keep at least some of the evidence from washing away.

Even with the rain washing away the blood, though, the scene is still gruesome.

The corpse has been mutilated so badly that it’s hard to tell anything beyond the fact that it’s humanoid at best. Whoever had done this had obviously not wanted the victim identified any time soon, the body resembling a pile of meat more than a person. Even though she’d certainly seen much worse, it still has her stomach turning a little at the sight of it.

“Have we got any idea of who this is?” Kira asks, stepping towards where Nathaniel had been speaking in low, hushed tones with some of the guard who had been there when they arrived. 

He shrugs at her as he turns to look back at the body. “Not yet. All we’ve got is that we think it might be one of the Alienage residents.”

“Strange,” Kira murmurs, watching her second-in-command step up to the body and bend down, examining the wounds. Surana’s face is hard as stone as she carefully prods at the victim with glove-covered hands. 

“Do you think the murderer brought them to the upper market?” she continues at length, forcing herself to look away and at Nathaniel’s face instead. “Or were they in the wrong place at the wrong time?”

Nathaniel scoffs quietly, shrugging again. “Hard to tell without knowing who this was in the first place.”

Kira lets out a long, tired sigh at that, nodding as she crosses her arms and looks back over at the crime scene. “What can you tell from the body, Nadia?”

Surana’s face is grim, long dark hair sticking to her brown skin as she leans back on her haunches, wiping the rain from her eyes. 

“Well,” she starts hesitantly, “at first glance, it looks like a botched attempt at blood magic. The cuts on the forearms and here on the neck suggest bloodletting, but—I don’t know. Something’s off.”

“No kidding,” Nathaniel mumbles. “Is it just me or are these bodies getting even more mutilated with each new victim?” 

Both Kira and Nadia give a derisive snort, all of them staring blankly at the corpse. Nadia goes back to poking at the wounds with one of her knives, carefully lifting bits of fabric and flesh to catalogue the state of the body. It’s hard to look at, even with everything they’d seen, and Kira finds herself looking back towards the crowd instead of at the body as the minutes pass.

Of all the things that had come with the territory of becoming the new arlessa of Amaranthine, somehow the talking darkspawn had been less of a surprise than this. Maybe it’s just because they’d been fighting the Blight for so long when the new darkspawn had shown up that it hadn’t been cause for any of them to even blink at it, but this new chain of murders is just that much more unsettling somehow. Darkspawn are darkspawn—they mutilate without reason because that’s what they are designed to do, and somehow that makes it easier to take in. Besides, during wartime, coming across bodies was somehow easier to compartmentalize, but this?

This is no darkspawn attack.

Surana pauses over the victim’s clenched right hand, carefully prying the bloodied fingers apart to reveal some kind of stone clutched in their hand. She pulls it free, holding it up to the light and squinting at it curiously.

“Weapon of self defense?” Kira offers. 

Surana just shakes her head, frowning as she rubs her thumb over the surface of the stone. She turns it over in her hand, wiping away some of the blood to reveal something. “It’s—a runestone. Dalish, I think, by the look of it.”

Kira’s heart squeezes uncomfortably in her chest at that. Elf-human relations have been rough for ages, and since what happened in the Denerim Alienage during the Blight, they’ve been particularly strained. The last thing they need is for there to be any reason for humans to think of their elven neighbors as threats. 

“It’s too bad Anders fucked off,” comes Nadia’s voice, tight with effort as she stands back up. Kira can hear the underlying tenseness in her voice at the mention of Anders, and a pang of discomfort shoots through her chest. Nadia prods at one of the corpse’s hands with the toe of her boot as she continues, forcing herself to keep a light tone, “Not that I’m not good at figuring cause of death, but it would be nice to have an extra set of healer eyes, you know?”

Kira hums. She pauses for a moment, eyes unfocused as she turns to the head guardsman and says, “Take this one to the morgue with the others. Tell the crowd to disperse—show’s over. All we’ve got left is cataloguing the scene for clues.”

“Aye, Commander,” the guardsman says as he snaps to attention and gives a heartfelt salute. 

Kira nods at him as he brushes past her towards the crowd, leaving the three of them to oversee the guards packing up the body. Amaranthine as a city is not as known for violence as larger places like Denerim or Kirkwall up in the Free Marches, so all they have to transport the body is a contraption made of two poles and a piece of cloth stretched between them. Surana helps the guards shift the body onto the fabric, mumbling instructions to them as they work.

Kira turns back to Nathaniel as they leave for the morgue.

“You know Amaranthine better than any of us. I think people will talk to you more than they will me or any of the others, right?” she asks, tilting her head at him. 

He nods, clasping his hands behind his back. “Probably. I’ve known most of the people in Amaranthine since I was a boy.” His eyes are a bit glazed over as he eyes the wet, bloody stones in front of them. 

She knows that look. She’d seen it in the mirror after that night in Highever, right before Ostagar, when his father had destroyed everything she loved in one night. Seen it in the look on Alistair’s face for weeks after losing Duncan, seen it in Zevran’s eyes once she woke from being poisoned by Taliesen. Seen it in Nadia’s eyes when the slavers in Denerim joked about her mother’s death. 

She knows that look, and she hates that he’s having to see his home ravaged once again by violence.

Unable to think of anything else to do, Kira reaches up and claps him on the shoulder. Squeezing his shoulder, she sighs and says, “I’d like you to start talking to the townsfolk. See if anyone has noticed anything suspicious; find out who is missing so we can try to get identification on the bodies. I’ll stay here with Velanna and Sigrun and see what we can tell from the scene—if anything.”

Nathaniel gives a stiff nod, eyes still on the bloody pool on the stones. His voice is hollow as he responds with a quiet, “Yes, Commander.”

Kira gives his shoulder one more squeeze as she adds, “And have the guard double patrols from now on, round the clock. I want to catch whoever this is before we have a fourth body on our hands.”

He nods again, sighing. “I’ll get on that right away.” 

Nathaniel looks out towards the crowd still hovering several yards away. The guards trying to shoo them away have apparently been ineffective, the grumbling turning into shouting, and he sighs heavily. Kira smirks as she gives him one more pat on the back.

“Good luck with that.”

He rolls his eyes. “Yeah, yeah. I’ll go— _relieve_ the guards.”

“Tell Velanna to come over here,” she sighs. “She’s looking a little bit too wound up and I don’t want a second incident on my hands.”

He snorts. “No kidding,” he mumbles as he sidles off towards the crowd. 

Kira sighs as she turns her gaze back to the scene of the crime. The tarp, at least, has kept the area directly surrounding the body from getting too washed down, but any clues as to how the body ended up there or even where the killer might have gone after has been swept away in the downpour. Still, even though she’s not sure where to start, she decides to start near the edges of the scene, looking for footprints or a trail or _something._

She’s barely knelt near the edge of the tent cover when Velanna and Sigrun’s footsteps come up behind her, ready for orders. Without looking up, she says, “See what you think of the scene. Anything you notice could be important to figuring out what happened.”

“What _happened_ ,” Velanna starts sharply, voice dripping with acid, “is the third _murder_ of an elf within city limits in the past _month_. You are failing to protect my people the longer this goes unchallenged.”

Kira nods thoughtfully, watching as Sigrun busies herself with the edges of the scene as well. She seems to have no interest in joining this particular argument, judging by the redness of her ears. Sometimes it’s strange, how well-mannered her friends can be now that they’ve gotten used to their role as Wardens.

“What do you suggest, Velanna?” Kira asks then, looking up at her from where she kneels. Her voice is low and calm, knowing full well that Velanna’s anger isn’t personal in the slightest.

Velanna’s arms are crossed as she looks down at the pool of blood at her feet. “We’re not moving fast enough. The guard isn’t doing their job well enough.” She shakes her head, snorting a little as she adds, “Or maybe it’s the guard we should be looking at for answers.”

Kira chuckles humorlessly. “Believe me, I’m considering every possible option here.”

“ _Are_ you?” she sneers. 

Kira pushes herself to her feet, crossing the distance between the two of them with a few long strides. She makes sure Velanna is looking her dead in the eye when she answers her. 

“ _Yes_ ,” says Kira firmly, “I am. My job is to find the killer and bring them to justice—no thread is going to remain unfollowed.” She tilts her head to the side, considering Velanna’s angsty expression as she avoids her gaze, looking back down at the stone beneath their feet. “You know I care about what happened to these poor people as much as you do. I’ll lock up any number of humans if it turns out they’re the ones doing this. We’re going to be better than the rest of Thedas when it comes to justice, no matter what it takes.”

Her Wardens are quiet for a long beat, Sigrun still minding her own business around the edges of the tent as Velanna thinks over Kira’s words. The tent overhead snaps in the wind as the storm picks up a little, and the sound of the rain pouring down around them creates a feeling of seclusion. The world is covered in rain and fog, the ground beneath soaked in blood, and the combination has Kira feeling almost unreal as she waits for her friend to respond.

“I know.” 

Velanna’s voice is hoarse when she finally answers, looking back at Kira’s face finally. She clears her throat uncomfortably as she continues, “I know you care. I’m just— _frustrated_. It feels… too familiar.”

Kira nods, reaching out to grasp at Velanna’s shoulder. “I know it does. We’re going to do the same thing we did when we recruited you, though. We’re getting to the bottom of this, one way or another. Whoever is responsible won’t get away without facing consequences for the lives they took. You have my word.”

For a moment, the only thing Kira can hear is the sound of the rain hitting the tarp up above them and the wind howling over the rooftops. The mists that have settled over the town from the sea press down heavily now, loneliness creeping in with the chilly humidity. 

Kira’s chest feels tight under her armor.

It’s a long moment before Velanna takes a deep breath—and then sighs, shoulders slumping. 

“Thank you, Commander.”

Kira gives a nod, dropping her hand back to her side, and sighing. As much as she’d like to spend more time reassuring Velanna—hell, as much as she’d like to reassure the people still lingering down at the entrance to the alley—they have work to do.

She just hopes they can figure this out before anyone else gets hurt.

“Alright, _so_ ,” Sigrun begins after another tense moment of silence, clapping her hands together. “First thing I notice is that there are no footprints directly around the body outside of the ones from when the guard moved it. What about you guys?”

Kira crosses her arms contemplatively as she eyes the perimeter of the scene created by the tarp. “I can’t see any signs of how this body got here, but I am also not seeing any blood spatter on the walls.”

“Do you mean that they were killed somewhere else and brought here to be found?” Velanna asks.

“It’s the most logical thing I can think of,” Kira shrugs. “I mean, it’s either that or the victim was restrained very well. What do you think?”

“I think—I think…” Velanna’s voice trails off before she can really start her theory, and she squints down at the pool of blood where the body had been. Kira watches as she tilts her head, taking a few steps to her right in order to look down at the bloodied stone from a different angle. She walks around the bloody stone, tracing something with the bottom of her staff.

“Do you—do you see a pattern here?”

Kira frowns, glancing at Sigrun, who shrugs before they both move to stand on either side of Velanna.

“See a pattern where?” Kira asks.

Velanna traces it again, following a barely visible outline that had been drawn beneath the body. A circle, big enough to encompass the body. Velanna also manages to make out the shape of a few runes within the circle, dragging her staff along each one that she can see. She frowns thoughtfully at it, biting at the inside of her cheek as she tilts her head at the symbols on the ground.

“What is that?” Sigrun asks. She tilts her head nearly upside down, trying to make sense of the design. “Some kind of spell thing?”

Velanna shakes her head, leaning on her staff. “Not any that I’ve ever seen. I don’t know anything about blood magic, though, so that doesn’t mean anything.”

“They’re not dwarven runes, whatever they are,” Sigrun says, shrugging. 

Kira sighs roughly, thoroughly exhausted by this whole thing. The runes on the ground are somehow familiar, though she can’t quite grasp where it is she’s seen anything similar before. She makes a mental note to check the Warden library at Vigil’s Keep—if there’s anything that could help them figure this all out, it’s probably going to be there.

“Alright,” she sighs at length, “Tell the guard to keep the scene roped off and protected until Surana can get here to take a look. We’ll move on to checking out the surrounding area for any dumped murder weapons or anything like that.”

If she wants Amaranthine to be a shining jewel of peace and prosperity above the madness of the rest of Thedas, she’s going to have to work harder.

There’s no rest for the wicked, after all—and if she wants to keep up, she can’t rest either.

* * *

They get back to Vigil’s Keep well after sundown.

The humid spring warmth has fizzled away into a chill that settles over the countryside, and she and her team are waterlogged and exhausted, hips and backs and knees aching from the events of the day. 

No one had spoken a word since they first left the city limits of Amaranthine on their way back to the Keep. Stone walls and cobblestone roads beneath their horses’ shoes fell away into vast, rolling hills of farmland and scattered spatterings of forest. The hard-packed, well-traveled dirt roads had turned to slush and mud from the spring rain, and the trek that normally took a little more than two hours ended up taking nearly four.

Riding through mud and rain in heavy silence for hours is enough to ensure anyone’s mood be black as coal by the time it’s over, but it doesn’t help that she’s not heard her team this quiet since she first met them. Even during the talking darkspawn debacle they’d faced when they first moved here after the Blight, they’d still enjoyed poking fun at each other on the road. 

By the time Vigil’s Keep was rising up through the rain and mist, the weight of the melancholy of the day had Kira slouching in her seat, focusing more on the ache shooting up her spine with each step her horse took than anything else. Though the sun set shortly after that, drenching the world in darkness, she knew exactly where it was, and she could pick out even the tiniest candlelit window as she urged her horse forward.

She’s so ready to be done with this day.

Velanna and Sigrun had disappeared within minutes of getting into the keep, mumbling various things about sleep and baths. Kira would have done the same thing, if she hadn’t needed to check in with everyone she’d left in charge that day.

Oh, the woes of always being the hero.

Luckily for her mood, Alistair is the one to greet her once she enters the main hall.

“Ah, you’re back!” he gasps, grinning as he rises from where he’d been lounging across the ‘throne’ to jog over to her. “I thought you’d be staying in town, but _Maker_ , am I glad you’re here because you would not _believe_ —oh. You look—oh...”

Kira blinks up at him blankly, well aware that she looks like a half-drowned rat in her big heavy commander armor, standing all of five feet and some change with her long, dark hair stuck messily to her face from the rain. She’s looked worse, sure, but she certainly doesn’t look like she’s doing very well.

Still, the way his face had dropped when he really took in her appearance makes her laugh.

“Good to see you, too, Alistair,” she chuckles, reaching up to try and do something with her hair. She wrings it out, brushing the wayward strands back from her face as she does. “What’s going on?”

Alistair blinks. “Aren’t you tired?”

Kira snorts. “Exhausted. What’s going on?”

He shakes his head. “Let’s talk on the way to your quarters. I’d feel bad if I made you stand in that wet armor too much longer.” 

She rolls her eyes, but isn’t about to argue with him. She, too, wants to get out of these wet clothes and go to bed as soon as she can—or at the very least, she wants to sit down while he tells her what happened while they were in town. Shrugging, she just nods in agreement, smiling a little when he drops into a bow with a dramatic flourish.

“After you, milady,” he says, winking.

Kira laughs, lightly punching his shoulder as they both laugh. Alistair in a lot of ways reminds her of her brother when he was younger, when she was little and used to follow him around like a puppy. She’s glad to have him back after the time he spent away right after the Blight. He’d had to explain things to the other Wardens, and she knows the whole fact that none of them died killing the Archdemon had been a nightmare for him to explain away, but things had been tougher without him around. 

She’d missed him.

“Anyway,” Alistair says as they start down the hall, “most of the day was quiet, save for the daily mail delivery.”

“No nobles threatening to burn down the Keep?” she asks dryly.

He laughs. “No, nothing of the sort. The mail itself was fairly exciting though—you’ll never guess who we got a letter from.”

“Oh, yeah? Who?”

With another flourish, Alistair produces a letter for her to take, slowing their pace a little. He waits for her to take it and open it up to skim before he answers her with a smirk.

“Anders.”

_Oh._

“Anders?” She frowns down at the piece of paper in her hands. “Is the world coming to an end? He took off without a word before.”

Alistair snorts, shaking his head. “Not quite yet, but he _is_ apparently sending us a new recruit from Kirkwall.”

“ _Kirkwall?_ The hell is he doing up there?” 

He laughs, shrugging as they turn a corner at the top of the stairs. “Hell if I know. Said something about setting up a refugee clinic or something. Not that it matters, I suppose, because I doubt we’ll be getting any more correspondence from him.”

 _No kidding._ Kira can’t quite hold back a laugh. “Did he tell us much about who he’s sending?”

Alistair shrugs. “Not much beyond that his name’s Carver and he’s from Lothering.”

She nods thoughtfully at that, remembering how the little village in the south had been flattened by the oncoming darkspawn horde during the Blight. Still, it would be nice to have another Fereldan to add to their ragtag little gang—one more name to put on the list to stop the Orlesians from trying to send people over to ‘help.’ The one they did manage to send was more than enough to drive her up the wall anyway, and she’s very glad that Sophie had asked for a temporary leave of absence to visit a friend in Val Royeaux last week.

They’ve finally made it to her room, and she’s already begun tugging at the ties and belts keeping her armor on before she’s even reached the door. She cannot wait to take her hair down and spend the next hour drying by the fire and sorting through the mail.

“Oh, I almost forgot. There was a letter from Zevran that arrived for you today.”

 _Zevran_.

There’s a rushing sensation that spreads throughout her body at the sound of her love’s name, and it takes more than a considerable amount of self control to keep her face trained in a relatively neutral expression. Alistair still laughs at her, as her cheeks and ears feel suspiciously hot. She coughs and tugs at the wet shirt sticking to her skin on her neck, smiling a little bit bashfully as she nods and says, “Oh? I can’t wait to read it.”

“I’m sure,” is all Alistair says as he starts to retreat back down the hall, smirking knowingly at her. Just before he turns around to continue on his way, he half salutes her as he calls, “Well, I’ll just leave you to it then. Have a good night!” 

Perhaps if she were less tired, or just less antsy to get at the letter waiting for her in her room, she might have found that exchange strange enough to question it. 

But, as it is, she’s just glad to be done for the day. 

Kira’s breath leaves her in a _whoosh_ as she finally steps into her quarters, half a groan making its way out of her chest as she shuts the door behind her, leaning against it for a moment in exhaustion. She can feel the tension of the day seeping out of her muscles, the weight of the world falling away with the comfort of home. 

It had been hard, those first few months after the Blight, trying to get used to living in Vigil’s Keep. The nightmares that haunted her had been nearly unbearable, especially without the things that had been keeping her sane after what happened in Highever. The difference between camping out with people she cared about, between sleeping next to someone she loved, and sleeping alone in strange bed in a strange castle—it had almost been too much for her.

Her wandering thoughts are brought to a stuttering halt at the sound of shuffling from somewhere in the room.

Kira’s eyes flutter open, startled, and finds her gaze drawn toward movement over by the loveseat in front of the lit fireplace. There’s a quiet _thump_ against the rug-covered hardwood as Ser Pounce-a-Lot drops from his place on the sofa to trot over to her where she stands by the door, chirping his greetings. This isn’t out of place, as the cat had taken to hanging out in her quarters after he’d returned from wherever he’d gone during the darkspawn attack on the keep. Without Anders there to take care of him, he’d grown attached to her instead, and she’d found him quite a good stress reliever since.

But the cat isn’t what she’s focused on.

What she’s focused on is the figure rising from the loveseat to greet her.

“Hello, my dear Grey Warden.”

* * *

He’s taller than she remembers—broader around the shoulders. His skin is warm and brown, darker than it had been last she saw him with the touch of the Antivan sun. He’s smiling, like he has in her dreams every night since he left. 

He’s—he’s _here._

He’s here and he’s real and he’s— _he’s—_

“ _Zevran_ —”

It’s not much more than a rasp as the world blurs, thick, white hot tears welling up and spilling down her cheeks before she even realizes that she’s crying. She can hear the beautiful, wonderful sound of his laughter through the rushing in her ears, and she reaches up to swipe furiously at her tearfilled eyes with her gloves in hopes of being able to _see_ his laugh for herself.

Zevran’s hands join her shaking fingers on her face, gently brushing her own hands away so that he can wipe her tears himself. She covers her mouth instead as he cups her face in his hands, trying to stifle the hiccupping breaths escaping her lips in an attempt to pull herself together.

His voice is soft as he murmurs, “Have I upset you, my love?”

Her answering laugh is thick with tears and joy.

“No, no, I—I’m so _happy_ , Zev, I…” she stammers, at a loss for words. He laughs a little as she shakes her head, thumbs still gently wiping away the tears that reach his skin. There’s a tingling feeling behind her knees, and though her throat aches with the force of the emotion bubbling forth from within her ribcage, she’s still not sure whether she’s awake or not. 

“Is this real?” she asks after another moment. “Are you really here?”

She watches him smile—notes a tiny new scar slightly raised on the corner of his mouth—as he says, “I am here.”

Kira shakes her head, and the movement makes him move to drop his hands away from her face, leaving her desperately grasping at his hands to keep them on her face. It has been a long, _long_ two years without him and she’s terrified that the second he stops touching her he’ll disappear into the aether, leaving her alone again. 

Zevran leans in and kisses her forehead, and a wave of prickling electricity races across her skin, from her scalp all the way down to her toes. He’s always been so careful about showing his emotions, but the first touch of lips to skin has him breaking a little bit, too, and he exhales shakily dropping his chin so he can press his forehead to hers. The reality of this moment echoes throughout the room, humming in the air with each heavy beat of their hearts. She’s been waiting for this moment for so long—to have him back finally is almost more than she can process.

With a soft whimper, Kira shakes her head and presses forward, burying her face in his shoulder. There are so many things she wants to say, but all of them fall away as she mumbles into his shirt.

“ _Hold me_.”

It’s awkward around her armor, but he doesn’t hesitate, wrapping his arms around her, nuzzling his face into the side of her neck. Kira slips her arms around his middle, digging her fingers into the back of his shirt, clutching him to her as she inhales the scent of him. He smells of cologne and fruity wine drifting on the salty sea air, and it smells so much like home that her knees nearly give beneath her. 

Her voice is thick as she laughs a little and says, “You smell so good,” into his shirt.

She can feel his laughter vibrate in his ribs as he chuckles, tightening his arms around her. “Do I?”

“Yes.”

“Hmm. I’m glad. You smell good, too—like rain. And horses.”

Kira laughs, poking him in the side and holding tight as he squirms in her arms, laughing with her. “I haven’t had a bath yet, you ass.” 

“I did not say it was a bad smell,” he says, bringing one hand up to brush tenderly at the nape of her neck, and she can feel the words form against the skin just under her jaw. “In fact, in some circles in Antiva, the smell of horses is considered an aphrodisiac.”

She shakes her head, giggling as he grips the nape of her neck and tilts her head so that he can press a few kisses to the still rain-soaked skin on the side of her throat. The warmth of his hands and his hot breath on her chilled skin sends pleasant shivers up and down her spine as he lingers, dragging his lips against her skin with each new kiss. Heat settles in her belly, spreading out towards the rest of her as she sighs contentedly in his arms.

 _“Liar_ ,” she accuses half a beat too late, and she can feel his laughter buzz against her throat. Soft, full lips curl against her skin, and she can’t help but laugh as he nips gently at the sensitive skin on her neck.

“Are you suggesting that I would _lie_ to you, my dear?”

“I believe you’ve called yourself a liar more than a few times over the years, love.”

“Mm. Perhaps once or twice.” 

She hums, laughing a little even as her eyes are starting to burn again. Digging her fingers into the back of his shirt, she buries her face further into his shirt, sniffling miserably as she bites back the urge to sob. It’s been so long since she’s been in his arms that it’s overwhelming just to stand here and be held by him. It’s so wonderful, but she wants to be _closer_ —she wants to feel the strong lines of muscle beneath his shirt pressed up against her, to feel his fingers dig into her back, to feel him holding her.

It takes all of her strength to pull away enough that she can start reaching for the buckles on her armor, tears dripping down her cheeks like her body is already mourning the loss of his closeness.

“Help me get this stupid thing off,” she laughs thickly, tugging at the buckles. “It’s getting in the way.”

Zevran’s lips twist into a smirk, hands lingering on her arms as he drags his gaze up and down the length of her. “Is it?”

“ _Yes_ ,” she grumbles. “I want you to hold me properly and you can’t with these giant pieces of Maker-forsaken metal on my chest.”

All he does is laugh as he sets to work on her armor, deft fingers undoing the buckles with far more ease than she does on her best days. With his help, the metal falls away from her within minutes, ending up in a messy pile by the door when she’s finally free of it and left in just her white undershirt and trousers. They’re both far too desperate to return to each other’s arms to care for more neatness than that as Kira nearly trips over her own two feet in her haste to throw herself at him.

He catches her around the waist when she crashes into him, both of them laughing as he stumbles back a few steps. They sway on the spot for just a moment before Zevran tightens his arms around her waist and lifts, laughing louder as Kira kicks her legs out, delight clear in her voice as he spins on the spot. Her stomach flips, butterflies filling her chest and sending excitement rushing from the top of her scalp all the way down to her toes, and before he can even properly set her back on her feet, Kira takes it upon herself to finally— _finally_ —do the one thing she’s been aching to do for two years now.

Kira kisses him.

He’s still laughing into it, lips curled at the corners, but that’s okay because she’s giggling too. There’s no rhyme or rhythm between them, trading soft, sipping kisses in the warm firelight. The storm rages just outside the windows, but they’re safe here, wrapped up in each other after so long. As the kisses deepen, both of them find their brows furrowing, fingers digging in, clutching at each other, trying to get closer, closer, _closer—_

“ _I love you_ ,” he gasps in between kisses, half a groan in his throat. “I love you so much, Kira, _mi amor_ —how I _missed_ you—you have no _idea_ —”

The laugh that escapes her is weak as she shakes her head a little, mumbling her own confession into his lips. “Part of me was so sure you’d left for good,” she breathes, laughing as a few more tears drip down her cheeks. “I was so certain you were never coming back.”

Zevran sighs, brushing the tip of his nose against hers, stealing another kiss from her lips as he mumbles, “I will always come back to you. Not even Death itself could keep me away.”

“I know. I _know_. Maker, I know, but it was so hard to remember the longer you were gone.”

“ _Well_ ,” he says, laughing softly, “it should relieve you to know that I have no intentions of going _anywhere_ without you for _quite_ some time.”

Kira grins, running her fingers through his long, golden hair. “Is that right?”

He hums. “The Crows should not be around to bother me for at least a few months, if my calculations are correct.”

“And if they’re wrong?”

He shrugs. “There is no safer place for me to be than by your side, don’t you think, _mi amor_?”

Kira laughs, nodding, nose brushing his as she leans in for yet another kiss. “ _Yes_ ,” she breathes, kissing him again. “They’ll have to go through me to get to you—and not even the entirety of the darkspawn horde could get through me.”

Zevran chuckles, low and warm, and murmurs, “Well, then. That’s settled—shall I draw you a bath?”

“I’d love that.” She catches his hands as he starts to pull away, drifting with him towards the tub in her quarters. Installing that had been pricey, but ultimately a wonderful decision. “Will you help me wash my hair?”

He pauses to kiss her again in response, smiling so happily that she feels like she might just start floating away. “Of course, my dear. As you wish.”

“I love you.”

Another laugh, followed by another kiss—“I love you, too, _querida_.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello everyone!! it's been a WHILE since i wrote dragon age fic huh lmao
> 
> i just recently completed the first semester of my second year in my writing program so i thought i would revisit Zevran and Kira and write them some new content considering my writing is MUCH better now
> 
> this isn't the only thing i'm working on - got a lot of WIPs, some of them fanfic and some Original, so hopefully as we get into 2021 you'll see more of me around here!!


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